


time is a clever invention

by buddhaghost



Series: time is my sculptor [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Basically entire story is getting the gang back together, Creepy The Handler (Umbrella Academy), Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Found Family Vibes, Immortals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Torture, a bit of Klaus whump, alternating pov, except immortality, no powers, not Luther hating, very minimal Lila appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buddhaghost/pseuds/buddhaghost
Summary: “Klaus, it’s time to come home,” Diego says. Klaus laughs again, bright and loud and decidedly unamused.“And where is that, exactly?” He asks, twirling the chord around his finger. “Last I checked, my home was destroyed in Jerusalem, around, oh, I don’t know, 5 B.C.?” He giggles. “5 Before Me.”He can practically hear Diego roll his eyes. “The manor,” he says, sounding like he’s talking through clenched teeth. “You had the visions, you know –”“Yes,” Klaus says, cutting him off sharply. “Yes, I saw that delightful young boy get riddled with bullets, and then saw him gasp back to life, so cliché, I thought, why not give him an interesting rebirth, like getting eaten by a shark, or run over by a lawn mower, or electrocuted or something –”“Klaus,” Diego bites out. “We have to get him. He’s one of us now.”Klaus sighs, sags forwards until his forehead is leaning against the wall. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know. I’ll be there."___The Hargreeves are not the Umbrella Academy; they're the Old Guard, a group of immortals just trying to keep their family together.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone
Series: time is my sculptor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965142
Comments: 62
Kudos: 317





	time is a clever invention

**Author's Note:**

> you don't need to have seen the old guard to read this. basically what you need to know is this; every so often, a new person gains immortality, and when they do, the other immortals have visions about them so they can all find each other.
> 
> disclaimer: I am not a history buff! i had to look up a list of 'important moments in history' to create a timeline for myself lol
> 
> warning for kind of graphic torture for Five's scenes and creepy Handler vibes
> 
> UPDATE 10/2/20: I've added my vague head canons. See end notes.

Allison wakes up gasping, visions of her dream still playing fresh in her mind.

They were different, today; not fragments from her past, not the usual rendition of mistakes or regrets. No, these were sharp, vivid, yet still largely incomplete. It was a boy, that much she was sure of, youthful face, mouth split into a snarl as he clawed his way back to life, bullets forced out as his body heals itself. His arms, yanked behind his back as he’s thrown over the shoulder of a man dressed in a suit, an assault rifle held casually in the man’s other hand.

Allison closes her eyes, breaths out slowly. Focuses on the sound of the ocean crashing at the base of the cliffs far below her, the sound of the leaves on the lemon trees rustling against each other in the soft wind. It’s too early, she can’t help but think. Vanya had joined them in the last century; why was this boy now joining them, too?

And so young. His face is burned into Allison’s mind, the rounded edges, the wide eyes, the flop of dark hair. The surprise, quickly masked by fear, then anger, as he started breathing again, as he was plucked from the ground, deftly restrained and abducted.

That can’t mean anything good for the boy. Sighing heavily, Allison sits up, swings her legs over the edge of her bed. Rubs her hand along her throat, feeling the smooth, unmarked skin beneath her fingers. Looks up, out the window, where the night sky is clear, and the moon is full. Mocking.

She grabs her phone from the drawer of her bedside table and makes a call.

___

Diego is in the process of drowning himself in vodka when his phone goes off. When he sees the name on the other end, he briefly contemplates dousing the phone in the liquid and lighting it on fire.

But that would be dramatic, even for him. So instead, he picks up.

“Yo,” he says, but Allison is already off and running the moment she hears his voice.

“I know you saw it too, Diego,” she says. “The boy?”

“The one in the spunky little school uniform?” Diego says, taking a sip straight from the bottle. “With the blood in his teeth? Yeah, I saw him. Looks like quite the charmer.”

“ _Looks like_ he’s gotten captured,” Allison stresses.

“ _Sounds like_ not my problem,” Diego says.

Allison goes quiet on the other end. “You and I both know that’s not true,” she says, softly. Diego doesn’t answer, because she’s right. Of course she is. Allison is one of the oldest of them, has seen empires rise and fall before Diego was even a thought. She was the one who found him, all those centuries ago, who’s found all of them, brought them together, made them what they are.

A family.

And now, there’s another one. A _young_ one. Diego isn’t sure what Allison saw in her vision, but he saw this: the boy, frantic, clawing his way across the floor even as bullets pierce into him. Sinking his teeth into the forearm of a man who scoops him up, restrains him as easily as a newborn deer. Diego doesn’t know where the boy is being taken, but he knows that whoever has taken the boy knows something. Knows that normal adolescents can’t walk away from a chest full of bullets. And that makes them dangerous.

“We getting the gang back together?” He says, gruffly. So much for a century of isolation on this rocky island. And he was just starting to like it, too.

“Getting the gang back together,” Allison agrees grimly. “I’ll handle Luther, you get Klaus and Vanya. Let’s see if we can’t figure out who this kid is.”

“Copy that,” Diego says, and hangs up. He takes a moment to close his eyes, to breathe, and debates. Klaus will likely be the more difficult of the two to track down, though hopefully, he’ll have had the same visions and will know that they’re looking for him. If Diego’s really lucky, Klaus might even have his phone _on_ him.

But for now, he’ll start with Vanya.

___

Vanya ignores her phone when it goes off, focusing instead on the instrument in her hands. Decades of practice have made it feel more like an extension of herself than what it is – wood and steel, melded together to allow for the creation of music. It’s the one thing she’s held consistent, the one thing that has followed her from the beginning of her immortality to now.

She knows why her phone is going off. If she had the visions, the rest of her family must have as well. The boy had looked to be on the cusp of adolescence, now cursed forever with the inability to grow any older. His violent introduction to immortality had struck a chord with Vanya, had made her vision go blurry and her hands start shaking and so she did what she did best; picked up her violin and started playing.

Her phone goes off again, insistent, and she reluctantly puts the instrument down, gently picks up the phone. Diego.

“Hello?” She says.

“Vanya,” Diego greets her. “Been a while.”

“Certainly has.” She turns, surveying her little apartment. The sash is blowing in a gentle wind, and she walks over to the window to pull it closed.

“I’m sure you know why I’m calling,” Diego says.

“Does it have anything to do with the fact we now have a little brother?” She asks. Stares out the window, at the busy street below her.

“Ding ding ding,” Diego says. “Allison called. We’re getting the band back together.”

Vanya closes her eyes. She didn’t expect anything less, but that doesn’t mean she won’t miss her simple life, simple apartment in Vienna, teaching violin lessons to school kids. “Where are we meeting?”

“The manor,” Diego says, and Vanya can hear the disdain in his voice. “We’re going home.”

Vanya sighs. “Oh, joy,” she says without infliction. Diego huffs a laugh.

“See if you can find out anything about the kid,” he says, and Vanya closes her eyes at the implicit order. Some things never change.

“Already on it,” she says, then hangs up, mainly because she knows it’ll annoy Diego for not getting to have the last word.

Silently, she packs her violin away, before turning back to what she was focusing on before she’d started playing. A roughly drawn sketch, depicting the boy’s face, his eyes wide, mouth open in a snarl. He looked savage, and Vanya’s glad that, at the very least, he’d given his captors a fight.

She settles onto the couch, gently moves the drawing to the side, and opens her laptop. First thing: buy a ticket home.

Second: find the boy.

___

Klaus is in the middle of fishing his maraschino cherry out of his disappointingly _virgin_ Shirley temple when the bar tender approaches him.

“You have a call,” she says, her accent thick and disdain apparent.

Klaus stares at her, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

She points a finger to the landline hanging to the right of the bar. “A call. Man on phone, asked for ‘hippy looking douchebag’.”

Klaus laughs, more of a bark than anything else, and slides off the stool. “Well, you’re not wrong there.” Under her sharp gaze, he meanders to the establishment’s phone, yanks it off its cradle.

“How, brother dearest, did you manage to find me?” He sing-songs into the receiver, not even bothering to say hello first.

As he’d suspected, it’s Diego on the other line. “I have my ways,” his brother says cryptically.

“I’m sure you do,” Klaus hums, already scanning the bar for any figure that could’ve tipped Diego off. He’d picked this bar, this town, this _country_ , for its general instability and a complete lack of reliable surveillance in most areas. He hasn’t had a phone since… who even knows. He thought he was _off the grid._

“Klaus, it’s time to come home,” Diego says. Klaus laughs again, bright and loud and decidedly _unamused_.

“And where is that, exactly?” He asks, twirling the chord around his finger. “Last I checked, my home was destroyed in Jerusalem, around, oh, I don’t know, 5 B.C.?” He giggles. “5 Before _Me_.”

He can practically hear Diego roll his eyes. His brother, so predictable. “The _manor_ ,” he says, sounding like he’s talking through clenched teeth. “You had the visions, you know –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Klaus says, cutting him off sharply. “Yes, I saw that delightful young boy get riddled with bullets, and then saw him gasp back to life, _so cliché_ , I thought, why not give him an interesting rebirth, like getting eaten by a shark, or run over by a lawn mower, or electrocuted or something –”

“Klaus,” Diego bites out. “We have to get him. He’s one of us now.”

Klaus sighs, sags forwards until his forehead is leaning against the wall. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know. I’ll be there.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Diego says emphatically, then hangs up. Klaus stares at the receiver for a moment, then starts laughing.

He laughs and laughs and laughs until the bar tender bodily drags him out, until tears are running down his face and he’s gasping for breath and then he’s not laughing anymore, he’s crying.

Crying because if there’s a new one of them, then surely that must mean that Ben is really, truly dead.

___

Luther’s phone is in his hand when Allison calls. He picks up immediately, a flood of relief going through him.

“Allison,” he says by way of greeting.

“Luther,” she says back, voice warm. “How are you?”

Luther shrugs, then remembers Allison can’t see him. “The same,” he says, because it’s true. He’s been living in this rickety houseboat off the northern tip of Denmark long enough that it feels like home.

“I’m sure you know why I’m calling,” she says.

“I do indeed,” he agrees. “There’s another one of us.”

Allison hums. “I’ve already called Diego,” she says, and Luther closes his eyes, tries not to feel angry that she didn’t call him first. “And he’s getting Klaus and Vanya.”

“So that just leaves me, eh?” He says.

Allison is quiet for a moment. “Luther, we need you. The boy needs you.”

“Five,” Luther says. “His name is Five.”

Allison goes quiet again. Then, “how the hell do you know that?”

“It was in my vision,” he says. “That’s what they called him.”

“Well, hopefully that’ll help us find him,” Allison says, but she sounds doubtful. Luther doesn’t blame her – who the hell gives their kid the name Five?

“So you’re going home?” Luther asks.

“Yes,” Allison says. “All of us are. Will you come?”

Luther closes his eyes, lets the wind whip salty spray at him. Takes a deep breath, the briny smell of the ocean overwhelming him. This is his home, he thinks. The ocean.

But his family needs him. He’s got a mission to see through.

“Of course,” he says. “Give me ten days.”

“I don’t know if the boy has ten days,” Allison warns.

Luther laughs, even though nothing about this is funny. “Alli,” he says, “that kid’s got all the time in the world.”

___

Five is having a rough day.

First, he gets shot, multiple times, in his _own home_. Well, if one could consider a glorified orphanage a home, but still. Then, as he lays, bleeding out on the floor, choking on his own blood and cursing the world, he suddenly, decidedly, is _not_ dying anymore, as bullets inexplicably push themselves out of his chest, wounds closing in a matter of seconds.

He doesn’t bother to question it, instead immediately flips onto his stomach, army-crawls towards the man with the gun hanging idly by his side. “What the –” says his accomplice, a woman, who is cut off by a yell as Five sinks his teeth into the shooting arm of the man before him.

Five flails, scratches, screams, but ultimately is easily subdued, his arms wrenched behind his back and secured with a rope as he’s hoisted over the shoulder of the large man. He jerks in the hold, manages to knee the man in the face, and is rewarded by being dropped unceremoniously to the ground. His head cracks sharply on the wooden floor, stunning him momentarily, before he makes an effort to roll away, arms still pinned behind him.

“Jesus, get him!” The woman snarls, but the man shakes his head, holding his nose. The woman growls, then stalks over to where Five is trying valiantly to get to his feet.

“Night night,” she says, and presses a cloth to Five’s face, blocking off his nose and mouth. He squirms, tries to buck the cloth off, but soon, his attempts slow down, body growing heavy as whatever the cloth is soaked in does its job. As the darkness consumes him, the last thing he hears is the woman saying, “What the _fuck_ just happened.”

He’s unconscious, but not quite. Visions, faces of people he’s sure he’s never met before, dance around in his subconscious. A woman, dark skinned with eyes like granite, a man, deftly spinning a knife between his fingers. A violin, its white coating unconventional, a dingy boat being rocked at sea. A house, large and imposing, but empty, save for relics from the past.

He doesn’t know who these people are, what these images mean, but they stick with him as he drags himself back to consciousness.

Slowly, he resurfaces. Blinking his eyes open, he takes in his surroundings. Tries to sit up, realizes he can’t; he’s strapped down to a padded table.

His breath starts to come harshly, wheezing getting more pronounced the more he tries to calm himself down. But how can he, when he’s just been attacked and subdued like it was _nothing_ and he’s pretty sure he just inexplicably _did not die_ and now he’s strapped down to a table in what looks like a… genetics lab?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice says, and Five scans the room with his eyes, unable to turn his head as he hears someone approach. A face looms suddenly over his, a woman, with fair skin and dramatic makeup and white hair pulled into an artful up-do. Her eyes search his, and she smirks as she brings her hand up to caress his face. Five tries to jerk away, but is unsuccessful, and the woman looks delighted as she strokes her fingers lightly from his brow to his cheek. “I’m so pleased to see you’re alright,” she says, though something about the way she does makes Five shiver involuntarily.

“Who the hell are you?” he spits out. The woman laughs, and her touch suddenly turns harsh, her fingernails biting into Five’s cheek. He winces but doesn’t give her the satisfaction of gasping.

“Oh, my dear boy,” she says, voice like honey and Five hates it with every fiber of his being. “I’m the one who’s going to figure out just how you managed to survive several lethal bullet wounds to the chest.” She releases his face, drums her fingers inquisitively on his sternum. He feels something wet run down his cheek, leaking from where she’d pierced him with her nails. “I’m going to figure out what makes you tick.” She laughs, steps away. “But unfortunately, I can’t promise you’re going to like it.”

__

Allison stares up at the manor, wrapping her massive scarf more securely around her to combat the blowing wind. It’s dark, which is not unusual, and looks like nobody’s been there in ages. Also not unusual.

Sighing, she steps forwards, shoving her way through the massive doors, which part with a groan and a sprinkle of dust. Nose wrinkled, she steps inside, taking in the massive atrium, once glorious, now covered with cobwebs and dust.

“Home, sweet home,” she says to nobody, even though this house had never been her home, not really. She came from something much older, much more modest, now long gone. She can barely remember it, anymore. Her earliest memories, these days, start with Ben.

Ben, her sweet older brother. Allison knows the others think she is ancient, but Ben was prehistoric. They had found each other around the beginning of China’s first dynasty, and he had been a constant in her life, even after the others started to join them.

But now, he’s gone. Nobody knows where Ben is, what happened to him. Allison likes to think he’s out there, somewhere, but she’s not sure. Can bodies really stay immortal forever?

Sighing, she makes her way further into the manor, running her hand along tables coated with dust, snapping sheets stiff with age off of furniture. It’s hard to tell the last time somebody had been in here, but Allison can still see it as it once was; full of people, of life, of smiling faces, fancy dresses, sparkling cocktails. Jaunty music, finger food, all the things that one associates with a good party.

The barren emptiness it is now makes for a sharp contrast.

Allison gingerly seats herself on the couch she’s just uncovered, pulling out her phone. She’d gotten to the manor quickly, leaving almost immediately after she’d gotten off the phone with Luther. She just hopes that Diego was able to get to Vanya and Klaus, that everybody actually shows up.

“Hello?” As if summoned by Allison’s thought alone, a voice calls into the house. “Diego? Anybody home?”

Quickly, Allison rises, hand sweeping back her quilted poncho to reach for the blade she keeps tucked at her side, before she relaxes, recognizing the voice. Vanya.

She strides forwards, back to the atrium, and pauses just outside the doorway. Vanya’s neck is craned upwards, and she slowly spins, taking it all in, before coming to a stop facing Allison.

“Allison,” she says, her voice mellow, as always. She hasn’t changed a bit, sticking with the same middle-part and drab clothes, and Allison feels herself tear up at the sight of her sister.

“Vanya,” she says, stepping forwards. “It’s been too long.” The two embrace tightly before Vanya pulls herself away.

“Where is everybody? I left pretty much as soon as I got Diego’s call, I thought he’d at least be here by now…”

Allison rolls her eyes, discretely dabbing at them. “Boys,” she jokes, and Vanya huffs a laugh. They stand for a moment, taking in each other’s presence, before the smile fades from Vanya’s face.

“I think I found our newest brother,” she says, bending down to pick up a briefcase that Allison hadn’t even seen her bring in. Swiftly, Vanya hauls it onto the center table, sending up a cloud of dust as she does. The two girls cough as Vanya opens it, revealing a laptop, and a drawing.

“You did this?” Allison asks, taking the parchment. The boy’s face is vivid, almost too life-like, caught in a snarl by Vanya’s charcoal.

Vanya doesn’t even glance at it, hunching over the computer and typing rapidly. “Thought it could help me remember better,” she says by way of explanation.

Allison taps her foot, still staring at the drawing. “Luther said his name is Five. Does that mean anything to you?”

Vanya bobs her head. “Unfortunately, it does. After some digging, I found him; he grew up in a boy’s home in West Berlin. No discussion of his parents; he’s been there since he was an infant. Last night, there was an armed attack on the institute; no survivors. He was the only one missing.”

“Jesus.” Allison steps closer, peering over Vanya’s shoulder. “Do they think he did it?”

Vanya purses her lips, but ultimately shrugs. “I don’t think they will. Too much evidence pointing to it being an outside job. Plus, if they bother running a scan on the blood there, they’ll probably find that a lot of it belongs to the boy.”

“Still doesn’t explain why his name is Five, though!” A new voice says cheerily. Allison and Vanya whip around to see Klaus grinning at them, leaning against the open doorway.

“Klaus!” Allison cries, and he opens his arms, allowing her in for a hug. Vanya follows suit, and Klaus sighs as he wraps his arms around the two of them.

“Ah, my sisters,” he exhales. “What a pleasure it is to be dragged back to this…” he pauses, takes a moment to look around, and sniffs. “ _Barren_ institution.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “This was just the easiest place to meet,” she says by way of explanation. “We all know where it is.”

“We all also know where Buckingham Palace is, but guess we couldn’t reserve that,” Klaus mutters, dropping his arms from the girls and sauntering forwards. “Well? Where is the rest of our gang of merry men?”

“Luther and Diego still haven’t shown up,” Vanya says.

“But, to be fair, it’s been, what, twenty-four hours?” Allison says quickly. “They’ll be here.”

Klaus bends forwards, looking at Vanya’s computer, before letting out a laugh. “Oh, they better be,” he says. “Because Hazel and Cha Cha are _no bueño_ , let me tell you.”

Allison and Vanya exchange glances. “What do you mean?” Vanya asks.

Klaus points to something Vanya had pulled up. A photo of Five’s home, or, more specifically, the carnage that remains. In the top left corner is a briefcase, something that Vanya had overlooked completely as irrelevant.

“I know that case,” Klaus says. “I can’t believe they left it! Man, the kid must’ve put up a hell of a fight.” He laughs.

“Klaus,” Allison demands. “ _What_ are you talking about?”

Klaus turns to look at them, wide-eyed. “Oh, you don’t know? Hazel and Cha Cha, they had that case when they kidnapped me a while back.”

“ _What_?” Allison explodes. Klaus waves a hand in her face.

“Oh, nothing sinister, just a little light dosage of torture, what have you,” he says breezily. “They killed me and left me in the bathtub.” He looks pensive suddenly, and chuckles. “I’m sure they were confused when I wasn’t in it when they came back for me!”

“Klaus,” Vanya says, voice light, reasonable, and Allison is glad she’s speaking because she doesn’t think she can maintain calm right now. “Are you saying that these people know you’re immortal?”

“What? Psh, of course not,” Klaus says, waving his hand. Then he pauses. “Although, they did have quite an extensive story board of my life throughout the centuries.” He looks at them, hand on his chin. “Do you think that’s a bad thing?” He points to Allison. “Your face is making me think that’s a bad thing.”

Allison closes her eyes, takes a breather. Counts to three before opening them again. “ _Yes_ , Klaus, that could have been a _helpful thing to know_ ,” she manages to grit out, before spinning on her heel and stalking back into the sitting room.

“We need Diego and Luther to get here, _now_.”

___

Diego knows that Allison is probably pretty pissed right now, if his buzzing phone is anything to go by. He’d have half a mind to drop it in the canal as he crosses an old foot bridge but refrains from doing so. Hey, he’s done his part, getting Klaus and Vanya, the least Allison could do was issue him a _thank you_.

Besides, he has one more investment to check in on before he can go home.

The shop is exactly as it was the last time he was here, nearly twelve years ago. Tucked away in a darkened alley, away from the foot traffic of the tourists, too niche for any locals to frequent. _L’arma a doppio taglio_ has a select clientele, and Diego just so happens to be one of them. It helps that he’s known the shop owners for multiple generations.

The bell chimes overhead as he pushes his way in. True to form, the store is packed with odds and ends, memorabilia from all around the world, stacked precariously on all surfaces. Diego idly checks out a stack of Venetian porcelain teacups before dismissing them as fakes, then turns to an impressive collection of artisanal knives, displayed in a rather grotesque fashion of being stabbed into a skull. He leans closer, attempting to discern if the skull is, in fact, a fake.

“Hiya, stranger,” a voice says. Diego straightens, turns, and is confronted by a smiling girl dressed in an impressive, all-black ensemble. Her eyes stand out even more with the kohl she’s layered on, and her fringe bangs look like they could use some help.

“Don’t remember me?” She says, teasing.

Suddenly, it clicks. “Lila!” Diego exclaims. “Jesus, last time I saw you, you were… what, ten?”

Lila looks him up and down. “And last time I saw you, you had something for me.” She sticks her hand out, palm up. “Where is it?”

Rolling his eyes, Diego slaps a Kit Kat into her open palm. She squeals and immediately shoves it into her back pocket. “What can I do for you?”

Diego knows the store is empty, but he still jerks his head in the direction of the back room. Lila rolls her eyes, but beckons him to follow her, leading him into what has always been the ‘office’ of this establishment.

“Where are your folks?” Diego asks, casually circling the room, peering through the clutter. He already knows the answer, suspected it the moment he wasn’t greeted by a warm cup of tea from Pira, Lila’s mother, and a gruff handshake from Hiram, her father.

Lila sucks her lips in before pushing them out with a sigh. “Dead,” she says, not looking at him from where she’s leaning against the impressive oak desk that sits in the middle of the room. “Five years now. Sentencing me, officially, to an eternal life of servitude.”

“Hey now,” Diego says, coming to a stop. Lila nods and waves her hand in his general direction.

“I know, I know,” she says. Diego’s not sure just _how_ much Lila knows about him, but he knows that she’s aware that he isn’t like the rest of them, that he ages… differently.

“I need something,” Diego says, and he almost feels bad for asking. Almost.

Lila sighs, then straightens, meets his eyes. “I figured as much,” she says. “What is it?”

Diego licks his lips. “I need to know about the Commission,” he says, and Lila stills. “Have you heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have,” she says easily, but something in her tone is off. “But I can certainly look into it for you.”

Diego nods, watching her. He doesn’t know Lila like he knew her parents, her grandparents, her great-grandparents. He’s not sure if she’s acting shifty because she’s hiding something, or if she just acts that way in general.

Either way, time to take his leave. “Great,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe. “You know how to reach me.” Lila nods, arms wrapped loosely around her middle, clutching each elbow.

Diego turns to leave, before remembering something. He pauses, fishing through his pocket until he grasps it, pulls it free.

“For you,” he says, tossing the bracelet at her. “Authentic beads from ancient Egypt. Think it’s from the Aksumite Empire.” She catches it, holding it gently in her hands before slipping into onto her nimble wrist.

“Thanks,” she says, finally looking up at him. Meets his eye. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Diego nods, before heading out the way he came.

__

Luther sinks his ship.

It’s nothing personal, but still, standing on the rocky beach, being buffeted by wind from all directions, watching the ocean consume what has been his home for the past half a century, he feels himself tearing up.

No, that’s just the wind. Of course.

He knows he needs to go home, needs to see his family. Needs to help this new boy, Five. Allison had called him, had asked him to do so. The last time Allison asked him for anything… Luther isn’t even sure he remembers. His sister has a way of being maddeningly self-sufficient, always two steps ahead of the rest of them.

If she’s trying to get the family back together, he knows he should go.

And he will. It’s just – he’d just started getting used to being alone. His whole life, eternal and mortal, had _people_ in it. When they’d made the decision to split up, after Ben disappeared –

Luther wants to be strong. He wishes he was. But he’s just so damn bad at being alone.

And that’s why he doesn’t want to go home. Doesn’t want to see his brothers and sisters, doesn’t want to be reminded what it feels like to be _around people again_ , because it’ll just make things that much harder when they inevitably split up. When they rescue their new brother and explain the way things work to him and, what, send the boy on his merry way? When Luther was found, it was Allison and Ben, and they’d stuck together, gradually joined by Klaus, and Diego, and lastly Vanya. Their family kept growing, and though none of them knew _why_ or could explain what phenomena allowed them to continue existing, it was alright. Because they were together.

So screw him for hesitating. Luther likes a plan, likes to know how things are going to play out. He wants to know what will happen after they find Five, after they’ve reunited and are reminded what it’s like to be a family.

But the only constant in his life is the past, and even parts of that is fading with time. Luther knows that he needs to go, knows that he _will_ go.

With a final groan, the houseboat has completely sunk from view. Luther stares at the now empty ocean, still thrashing in the wind, before nodding to himself and turning away.

It’s time to go home.

___

Five isn’t sure how many times he’s come gasping back to life now, but it’s getting old. And the woman, who calls herself the Handler, keeps getting more and more inventive with her tests.

As Five’s body kicks itself back to life, chest heaving for air, he immediately swallows another lungful of water. He thrashes against the cloth draped over his face, trying to dislodge it, but, like the other dozen times he’s tried that, he’s unsuccessful.

He doesn’t understand how he can keep coming back to life when there is simply no oxygen entering his body. The downward tilt of the table ensures that the water, which runs almost continuously over his face, is forced up his nose and down his throat, and his lungs heave in protest, sucking at nothing, only succeeding in inhaling more water.

It’s a brutal pattern, and he is incapable of stopping his body from its desperate search for oxygen, instead stuck in the hellish cycle of _inhale water, choke, pass out, repeat_.

The damp cloth is heavy against his face and he bucks against his restraints in an effort to fill his chest, but chokes against the heaviness in his lungs, feels darkness start to swamp his mind again because _he can’t breathe_ –

Suddenly, the cloth is lifted from Five’s face, the stream of water brought to a stop. He inhales greedily, but immediately starts choking, lungs trying to expel the water from within them. He coughs and coughs and coughs, tries turning his head to the side to clear his lungs but it’s not working, and his chest spasms, abdominal muscles contracting and releasing painfully as he chokes and splutters until finally, finally his body gives up and he goes limp, trembling all over.

He’s not dead, but he almost wishes he was as the Handler approaches him, hands clasped and a grin on her face like she’s a young girl at a carnival. “That was simply remarkable!” She says, then reaches out a hand to brush some wet strands of hair from Five’s forehead. He simply closes his eyes, too exhausted to try to move away from her touch.

“Twenty-seven successive revivals, all under continuous waterboarding,” she says, and it almost sounds reverent, like he’s something holy. “What a truly exquisite creature you are.”

Five’s face is wet, and he feels water trail down either side of his face, pooling at his ears, as the bed is shifted out of its slanted angle. He tells himself it’s just left over from the waterboarding, nothing more.

The Handler makes a cooing noise, swipes a finger under his clenched eyes. “Are these…” she pauses, pops the finger in her mouth. “Tears?”

Five won’t look at her, won’t open his eyes. The Handler rests her hand on his cheek, cradles his face. It’s the most motherly way that Five has ever been touched and he hates it. “Oh, sweetheart,” she simpers. “But I haven’t even given you anything to cry about yet!”

___

Klaus thinks that time is a funny thing. A day ago, he was sipping at a disappointingly non-alcoholic Shirley temple at some seedy bar halfway across the world, and now, he’s drinking with his two sisters, who he hasn’t seen for what feels like a millennia. Allison had found some dusty old goblets and Klaus had found a bottle of ancient tequila and Vanya had found some little paper umbrellas and now they were having margaritas, minus the lime and the margarita mix.

“So, let me get this straight,” Allison says for what feels like the fifteenth time, swirling her glass a bit. “You got _abducted_? By people who know you’re immortal.”

Vanya shakes her head, sitting up a bit. “No, no,” she corrects. “They _thought_ he was immortal.”

“And _technically_ ,” Klaus adds, “They do know I’m immortal now!”

Allison blinks slowly. “Why do you sound proud of that? You know what this means, right? We have to kill them.”

“Well, if they are the ones who took dear little Five, we’ll probably get the opportunity when we save his little ass,” Klaus says, pleased.

“We have to find him first,” Allison says, sitting up straight and putting her glass down.

“Hey now,” Klaus says, mildly concerned that Allison is looking less in the drinking mood and more in the brooding mood the more they talk about this mysterious Five. “We can’t do much good until we know where he is, and, well, we don’t know where he is!” He salutes her with his goblet. “So let’s keep drinking.”

Vanya sits up, puts her drink down as well. Klaus groans. “Ugh, _fine_ , we can look for him, you guys happy now?”

His two sisters exchange glances and shrug. Vanya says, “If we really wanted to know where he is, we probably should’ve met up wherever he’d been abducted from, don’t you think?”

Klaus knows that the rest of his family thinks of him as barely having two braincells to rub together, but he’s actually a _bit_ smarter than they give him credit for. He snaps his fingers and points at Vanya. “Yes, that’s what one might _think_ , but when dealing with Hazel and Cha Cha, I can assure you, our new little brother is nowhere _near_ where they abducted him.” He cleans non-existent dirt from beneath his nails, feigning nonchalance. “I bet they took him to their super-secret lab that they wouldn’t shut up about.”

Allison’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head. Klaus loves riling her up, and after having not had the chance to do so for the past few decades, he can’t help it. “Klaus, do you _know where they took him_?”

Klaus laughs. “I never had the pleasure of going there myself, unfortunately. No, I was graced with a wonderful stay in a motel outside the capital of Luxemburg while they did their darndest to test my immortality. I suppose I would’ve gotten to go if I’d stuck around after they slit my throat in the bathtub…”

“Klaus,” Vanya interrupts, while Allison sits back, unconsciously bringing a hand to her own throat. “Do you know where this lab might be?”

Klaus drums his fingers on his knee, takes a sip of his quasi-margarita. “From what I could gather from listening them talk while I was locked in the trunk, I think somewhere, oh, I don’t know… St. Petersburg?”

“As in… Russia?” Allison says. Klaus nods.

Vanya rises. “I’ll look into it.”

“I’m not sure how you’re going to look into a ‘secret base’, but good luck!” Klaus calls after her retreating back. Then, he turns back to Allison, raises his brow.

“Shall we continue enjoying our drinks while Vanya does the grunt work?” He sing-songs.

Allison cracks a smile, lifts her own glass. “I don’t see why not,” she says, reaching out to clink her glass against Klaus’s before raising it to her lips.

Klaus does the same, but pauses just before he takes a sip. Sits up straight, bows his head. Allison seems to pick up on the sudden shift in his mood, and Klaus is annoyed with himself for a moment, because this is what he _wanted_ , to be carelessly drinking with his sister, but he just has to know –

“Have you heard from Ben?” He asks. She’s the oldest, apart from Ben, has the biggest network. She might know something. Still, Klaus doesn’t look Allison in the eye, doesn’t want to see her expression, because it would give away her true answer, regardless of what she tells him.

Allison is silent for a moment. Then, softly, “No. Not since Belarus.”

Klaus doesn’t know what happened in Belarus, not really. He’d been on one of his journeys with addiction, too focused on getting his next fix to be involved with his family. One of his greatest regrets. All he knows is that Belarus was almost a century ago, and that it ended bloody.

Klaus clears his throat, then lifts his eyes to meet Allison’s, who is looking at him sadly. “Well,” he says, ignoring his own wavery voice, “let’s get drunk, yeah?”

____

Luther feels the hair on the back of his neck raise. Centuries of constant vigilance have him twisting away while falling into a defensive stance, blocking a knife that is aiming directly for him. He catches the wrist, jerks it efficiently, and the knife falls.

A very familiar knife.

And a very familiar wrist.

“Diego?” Luther splutters, releasing his brother.

Diego laughs, taking a step back and massaging his wrist. “Still got it, big guy,” he says.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Luther demands. “You could’ve –”

“Could’ve what?” Diego says. “Killed you?” He laughs. “Besides, I just wanted to test you. See how your reflexes are holding up, after all that time on the boat.” He glances pointedly at Luther’s legs. “I see you got your land legs back pretty quickly.”

Luther exhales heavily through his nose. “How did you even know about the boat?” He hasn’t seen Diego for what feels like a millennia, and Luther had been very careful about his boat. As in, nobody was supposed to know. Of all his siblings, Luther would probably say he’s missed Diego the least. “How did you even find me?”

Diego crouches, scoops up his knife from where it had been discarded when Luther disarmed him. It immediately disappears from sight, concealed somewhere on Diego’s person. Luther rolls his eyes.

“I’m a remarkably great tracker,” Diego says, which doesn’t answer Luther’s question at all. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home?”

“That’s where I’m headed,” Luther says. He has one more train to catch which will put him in the general vicinity of the manor. Then he’d planned on walking in aimless circles for hours – to deter anyone who might be following him, of course. Not to delay the inevitable. “Aren’t you supposed to be there too? Didn’t Allison talk to you?”

“Of course,” Diego scoffs. “Just had a few things I needed to check in on first.” He glances at his wrist, where Luther notices an old, filthy-expensive watch strapped casually to his brother’s wrist. “But I’m headed there now. Catching this next train, actually.”

Luther mentally curses. Of all the trains to catch, of course he and his least favorite brother manage to pick the same one, at the same time, on the same day.

Diego ignores whatever Luther’s silence could be interpreted as, and instead claps him on the shoulder. “Buck up, big guy! We’ll be home in no time, reunited with the OGs.”

“And the new kid,” Luther adds.

“Woah, harsh way to refer to our new little brother,” Diego remarks. The two stand shoulder to shoulder – well, as close as Diego can get to Luther’s shoulder, that is – and Luther can only imagine the sight they must be. He really hopes nobody saw Diego try to stab him. “Besides, we’ll be able to get him, lickity-split.”

Luther turns to Diego in surprise. “Do you know where he is?”

Diego waves his hand in the air. “Eh, a little bit. I have my suspicions. Think it has something to do with an organization called the Commission.” He looks over at Luther, eyes suddenly piercing. “You ever heard of them?”

Luther takes a moment, wracking his brain. There’s been so many organizations, secret and public, throughout the last few centuries that he’s genuinely not sure.

Diego doesn’t wait for an answer, just claps his hand roughly on Luther’s shoulder again. Luther had honestly forgotten that was one of Diego’s only form of physical contact with others. “Don’t worry about it too much, big guy. All that matters is that we get the kid out of there. That’s the mission.”

Luther nods, hands deep in his pockets as he stares straight ahead. “That’s the mission.”

He takes a step to the side, just barely dodging another of Diego’s attempts to slap his shoulder.

___

Vanya takes a deep breath. Closes her eyes, exhales slowly. Opens them again, scanning the information presented to her through a time-consuming but overall simplistic search of numerous dark sites. She’d fallen down a rather deep rabbit hole where users debated the existence of immortal beings, which at one point had come a little _too_ close to the truth for her liking. She had quickly scanned and scrubbed the chat, but not before finding the clue for her next search; a user whose original signal had been cast from a remote town just outside of St. Petersburg.

After copious back-searches and retracing her steps, she’d eventually narrowed down an address. It hadn’t revealed anything when she’d searched in on typical navigation sites, which almost always means that there’s something there that only select people know about, and those select people want to keep it that way.

Vanya closes her laptop and returns to where Allison and Klaus are still sitting in the living room, almost every piece of furniture save for the decorative bar and the couch set covered with a dusty white sheet. It’s strange, being back here, a place that once she’d considered home. Decades away has softened her memories, painted them in a glowing rosy tone, making it easier to remember the good times here.

She pointedly does not look at the photo that she knows is covered, hanging over the mantle piece. Of their family, before Ben went missing.

“Vanya!” Klaus exclaims as she reclaims her seat next to Allison, picks up her glass. “Did you find anything?”

Vanya rolls her eyes at the two of them, who are considerably drunker than when she’d left them. “I found an address,” she says. “Do we want to wait for Diego and Luther to get here first, or…?”

Allison sits up from where she’d slouched into a comfortable lounging position. “Do you think he’s there?” She asks.

Vanya shrugs. “I think it’s our best bet. I can look into tickets right now, we could leave by tonight –”

Allison shakes her head, cutting Vanya off. “We need to wait for Luther and Diego.” She pulls out her phone, squints at the screen for a moment. “And…”

“We need to sober up,” Klaus says, then starts laughing.

___

Five feels… off. Strange. Something’s not right, but he can’t figure out what, feels above himself, detached from whatever is going on. Like somebody scooped him out of himself.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is. He’s not on his hard mattress in the boy’s home, staving off hunger and aching for an opportunity to leave; he’s in the lab, with the crazy woman and her team of impartial scientists, and he’s aching from… something else.

His senses come in waves. Everything seems bright, blurry, like he’s looking at it from underwater. The Handler is standing off to the side, flipping through a thick file with an attendant standing a little way back, looking uncomfortable.

Her mouth is moving, but he can’t hear her. Can’t hear anything. He can feel his vocal cords working as he twists against his bindings, then gasps in pain, vision dotting with black spots. His chest, his stomach, scream in agony, so much so that he goes limp with the pain. Something is _not right_.

His fingertips curl and flex against the slightly padded table. His cheeks are wet, he can feel tears running down his face.

The woman appears above him, her face hanging over his like some twisted version of an angel. As usual, she looks entirely too pleased to see him like this. Five wants to gouge her eyes out with a spoon.

His hearing is starting to come back, and he closes his eyes, if just to block out the sight of her face. He has a feeling that she’ll haunt him for years to come. If he ever manages to get out of here.

“Do you know how long it takes for normal human tissue to heal?” She asks. Five doesn’t know if she wants him to answer, and he doesn’t think he can; his throat feels raw. “ _Months_ ,” she says, ignoring his lack of participation. “But for you, dear boy, your tissue regenerates in a matter of minutes.”

Is that so? Five would have found that interesting some time ago. He’s always been curious, interested in time and space and the human body. But since he’s been here, under the care this woman and her team, he finds that he can’t even bring himself to care.

The Handler isn’t done. “So of course, I asked myself, what about regenerating entire _organs_? Is that something your body is capable of?” Five feels cold at her words, at her implication, but still, he doesn’t open his eyes. He wishes he could block his ears; he doesn’t want to hear what this woman has to say.

There’s an insistent tapping on his cheekbone. “Open your eyes,” she demands harshly. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

_No_ , Five wants to say.

“Open your eyes or we’ll see if you’re capable of re-growing those, too,” the woman snaps.

Five opens his eyes.

The Handler smiles, satisfied. “There we go! Now, where was I…” she twists around as if looking for something before grinning. “Oh yes!” She grabs something from a nearby table, a small tray. Holds it up. Five doesn’t look, he can’t. “So, I asked myself, what _can’t_ this boy come back from?” She gets closer, pushing the tray towards Five. “So far, I haven’t found it yet. But did you know it only took you four hours to re-grow your entire _heart_?”

He looks. Sitting on the tray is a fleshy mass of muscle – a heart. But he can feel his own beating hard in his chest, getting faster and faster as he realizes what she’s implying, what she’s done to him.

Turning his head to the side, he dry heaves violently, nothing substantial enough in his stomach for him to actually throw up. The Handler sighs, clucks in disapproval, and runs her fingers through his hair, combing it off his forehead.

The sensation just makes him dry heave more.

___

Allison hurts. It’s been a while since she’s drank enough to get drunk, a while since she doesn’t remember the moments before going to bed. But she’s in bed – _her_ bed, in her bedroom in the house that no longer feels like home.

She sits up, hissing as she does. Presses a hand to her head. Why did they keep drinking last night? She’s pretty sure she remembers Vanya saying she found something, Klaus suggesting that they should sober up, but clearly… they didn’t. Decided nothing was to be done until Diego and Luther arrived, which apparently, they have yet to do

Allison pushes herself out of bed, rummages through the bureau off to the right. It’s mostly empty, some spare clips and costume jewelry clanging around, but no pain killers of any sorts.

With a frustrated groan, she shoves the aged drawers shut and steps out into the hall.

“Vanya?” She calls down the hallway. “Klaus?” There’s no answer. Great.

Allison finds herself distracted by the pictures hanging on the walls, remnants from the past. Faces, familiar, but the names have escaped her, trickling from her memory like water.

As ancient as she is, Allison sometimes wonders how much she’s forgotten.

“You’re up!” Comes a delighted voice from behind her. Allison whirls around, the movement making her nauseous, to see Klaus grinning at her from the other end of the hallway. “I was just about to get myself a little hair o’ the dog, what do you say?”

The thought of having anything remotely related to alcohol makes her want to hurl. “No, thanks. I think we should focus, take today to make our plan –”

“Oh, you guys are up?” Vanya’s voice echoes from the other end of the hall where she stands, fully dressed and looking unfairly bright eyed for having such a rough night. “Good. If we want to save Five, we’ve got to go _now_.”

____

Of all his siblings, Luther is probably the one Diego is _least_ close with.

It probably has to do with the fact that when they first met, Luther had run a sword through him. Diego still revels in the shocked expression on the dumb oaf’s face when he’d risen moments later and had driven that same sword through _Luther_.

Their relationship hasn’t improved much since then, to be honest.

Which is why Diego finds it so amusing to trail a few paces behind Luther as the other man walks in aimless loops throughout the city, trying to drop a non-existent tail before heading to the manor to meet up with the rest of the family. Diego understands the paranoia, for sure, but he’s learned eons ago how to tell when he’s being followed. Nobody got the drop on Diego.

“We’ve walked this street five times, big guy,” he calls ahead, watching as Luther’s shoulders tense at his voice. “If you’re trying to drop someone, they would’ve picked you up again the second time we made this route.”

Luther doesn’t even turn around, just lifts a hand into the air and flips him off. Diego rolls his eyes and ignores the other pedestrians who are very clearly trying _not_ to look at the two brothers.

Sighing, he jogs a few steps, closing the distance until he falls into place with Luther, matching his long strides with ease. “Luther,” he says seriously. “You’ve put this off long enough. Allison, Klaus and Vanya have been waiting for us. The _kid_ is waiting for us. Has been waiting for us for days. You’re not achieving anything by sticking it out here as long as possible.”

Luther’s face twists. If Diego didn’t know any better, he’d say Luther looked… scared? But then the expression is gone, and Luther’s stony, albeit stupid, resting expression is back. “I’m doing this for their protection,” he says roughly. He must be referring to Allison, Vanya and Klaus, and Diego almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous that statement is, how poor of an excuse.

“Buddy, they don’t need _protection_. They need _you_. Because we need to go knock some clowns around and find out what they’ve been doing to our new brother.”

Luther looks at Diego, eyes widened slightly. “They need _me_?” He repeats, as if he couldn’t believe Diego said that. Diego almost can’t believe it, either.

“Don’t let it go to your big head,” Diego says, before abruptly veering off the course Luther had them on. “Now are you coming, or what?”

___

Klaus knows his sisters probably think that he’s a joke, that he doesn’t take anything seriously, blah blah blah. He’s heard it all before, from all of them. _‘Klaus, you can’t just start a religion and then abandon your followers!’_ Yes, actually, he can, and he has. ‘ _Klaus, you can’t just get kidnapped and not tell us!’_ Whoops, honestly, didn’t really think they’d care!

Which, actually, reminds Klaus that he has a bone to pick with his two sisters, who are doing a great job of rushing around making it look like they’re doing important things in preparation to get their newest brother.

“Hang on,” he says from where he’s casually draped himself over the banister in the front hall, watching as Vanya types madly into her computer and Allison darts around doing heaven-knows-what. “Are you guys actually mad that I didn’t tell you I got kidnapped?”

That’s enough to get Allison to stop. She glares at Klaus. “Yes, you idiot!”

Klaus holds up a finger, cutting off whatever she was about to say next. “Do you actually _care_ , or are you just saying it because you’re mad I spilled my wee little secret?”

“Your immortality is a ‘wee little secret’?” Vanya asks without looking up.

Allison approaches Klaus and puts her hands on his cheeks. “Klaus, _of course_ we care. I don’t want to hear you’ve been kidnapped and tortured and know that I could’ve done something about it."

Vanya snaps her laptop shut and approaches as well, wrapping her arms around Klaus’s bony figure. “Don’t be stupid,” she says softly. “You’re my favorite brother. Whether they know you’re immortal or not, it doesn’t matter, because we’re going to kill them anyways.”

Allison nods her agreement. “Nobody gets away with kidnapping _two_ of our brothers,” she says.

Klaus laughs, a little weakly. “True, true,” he says. “Well, maybe we could keep them around, in hopes they kidnap Luther or Diego instead? I’d be fine with that.”

“Who the hell’s kidnapping me?” a voice from the front door calls, and Diego steps through. Klaus takes in his ridiculously tight leather get up, complete with knife holsters, and wants to laugh, but chokes on it as Luther follows him through next, looking hilariously uncomfortable to be here.

“How long have you been there?!” Allison exclaims, before releasing Klaus and rushing towards the two men. She stops just in front of them, glaring at Diego. “Thanks for returning all of my calls, asshole.”

Diego holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I did what you asked!” He gestures towards Klaus and Vanya, who has also stepped towards her brothers. “Got these two here, didn’t I?”

“Hey, Diego, Luther,” Vanya says, voice as even as always.

Luther looks huge, standing in the doorway, regarding all of them wearily. He’s in a massive Nordic sweater and has somehow managed to squeeze a trench coat over it, which makes him look even more imposing than usual. He only relaxes when Allison approaches him, a smile lighting up her face as she embraces him.

“I can’t believe you made it,” Allison says, stepping back.

“Only took us, like forty-seven extra blocks to get here,” Diego says. Luther rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

“I didn’t want anyone following us,” he explains.

“Wow,” Klaus finally says, standing up straight and sauntering to his two brothers. “You guys really do care! Here we were thinking we’d have to rush of and save poor Fivey all by our lonesome.” Truthfully, Klaus knows that Allison herself is lethal, and could probably have managed, even with Klaus as deadweight. Vanya’s certainly a little more useful, but she’s never excelled at hand-to-hand combat, either.

“Never fear,” Diego is saying, throwing his arms wide, grin as sharp as the knives strapped to his sides, “the cavalry is here!”

“God, I hate this fucking family,” Vanya mutters. Klaus just throws his arm around her shoulders and laughs.

___

Things are murky. Five’s mind is working like syrup, wheels barely turning as he struggles to blink his eyes open, to focus. He has no idea how long he’s been here, how many… _tests_ the Handler has subjected him to, but he finds that he almost doesn’t even care.

Doesn’t care that somehow, for some reason, he is unable to die; he survived the ambush at the boy’s home, and it seems his reward is a lifetime of experiments.

A lifetime. What does that even signify for him, anymore?

He can hear voices, morphed and muffled, but he remains in this in between-state, half awake, half dreaming. It’s times like these that he lets himself think of the faces he sees in his dreams, the conversations he overhears. Another time, maybe, he would’ve thought he was going crazy, glimpsing into the lives of people he’s sure he’s never met.

But now, he takes solace in these visions. Because somehow, he knows that they are like him. That they can’t die, either. He can’t explain it, but the sensation of wholeness, of familiarity, almost overwhelms him in the moments when he reflects on their existence.

There are some moments of clarity, some times where he’s sure that he’s more awake than asleep. Where the visions feel more concrete, like they’re happening all around him, rather than in his dreams.

Like right now. A face is leaned over his, someone Five hasn’t seen yet, not in his dreams or in this waking nightmare. It’s a boy –no, a man— of Asian descent, face unlined save for the crinkles of worry around his eyes. His mouth is moving, like he’s saying something urgent.

  
Five blinks slowly, tries to shake his head, to signify he can’t hear. Everything is muddy, and Five just wants to go back to sleep.

The face is concerned. It disappears for a moment, and Five hisses as something jolts his arm. Slowly, so slowly, he looks down, and sees hands on the needle in the crook of his elbow. The needle that is no longer in the crook of his elbow, that now dangles from the IV, dripping whatever cocktail of drugs that had been pumping into his system onto the floor.

The face is back over his, the mouth moving again with the same urgency. Five wants to tell him to shut up, to tell him that removing the IV doesn’t cause instant clarity, that it will take hours for his body to burn through the drugs that have lived in his veins for days.

Clearly, the face over his doesn’t give a shit what Five thinks. The other man rolls his eyes in frustration at Five’s inability to do anything, and again disappears from view.

Five closes his eyes, content to lay there until the Handler comes back and does whatever awful experiment she has cooked up. Only for them to shoot open as he splutters against a cup of water that has been thrown in his face.

Immediately, he jolts upwards, his heart racing. Not more of this – he, he can’t. Not the water.

The adrenaline clears his foggy head, enough for him to realize that there’s no more water coming, that he hasn’t been tipped back, that there’s no cloth pressed over his mouth and nose.

Enough for him to realize that he can move.

Five sits up, blearily, confused. His head is pounding, but this is new – the Handler has never let him up from this table. Squinting, he looks around.

His eyes land on the other man, who is holding the now-empty cup. He’s staring at Five with something close to wonder, but the look quickly shifts into something more guarded once they make eye contact.

“What are you doing?” Five asks, hair plastered to his forehead with water. It drips down his face, to his chin.

“Rescuing you, obviously,” the man responds, but doesn’t move.

Five looks down at his wrists, his ankles. All restraints have been removed. He looks back at the man, who looks for the world of him like he’s just barely twenty-five, dressed in a nondescript hoody and unremarkable pants and shoes. But there’s something… _other_ that Five senses, coming from the man standing a few feet away. Something ancient. No, more than ancient.

Five doesn’t have the brain power to contemplate why this man is giving him the same vibes that a prehistoric fossil might. All he knows is –

“You’re like me.”

The man smiles tightly. “Yes. Now you need to get going. The rest of the family will be here soon.” He steps towards Five, who hops off the table and almost immediately buckles.

“Family?” Five pants as he just barely catches himself on the table. “What family? You mean the others? Where’s the Handler?”

“Can you walk?” The man asks, concerned. “And yes, the others. Your family. They’ll explain everything.”

“Where am I supposed to go? What about you?”

The man grabs Five and starts to lug him towards a door, apparently done waiting for Five to try and fail to pull himself to a standing position again. Five’s whole body is trembling, weakened greatly from the past few days. Black spots dance in his vision and he blinks them away angrily. 

“I’ll take you where you need to go,” the man says, sounding frustrated. Like he doesn’t want to have to drag Five’s dead weight around. Five doesn’t really blame him; nobody’s really ever wanted to deal with Five, not at the boy’s home, and certainly not before. “But I can’t stay.”

That doesn’t seem to make much sense. “Who _are_ you?” Five finally remembers to ask.

The man smiles slightly, not looking at him as they maneuver through floors and floors of labs. “I’m Ben.”

____

They’re in St. Petersburg, having updated Luther and Diego on their plan, and are en route to what Vanya has determined to be the lab when she inhales sharply, staring at something intently on her phone.

“Hang on,” she says, voice soft, but everybody immediately stands to attention. Diego’s driving, having acquired a car after their flight in such a quick manner that nobody really wanted to ask how he’d done it, and he quiets the music that he’d been increasingly turning louder in an effort to drown out his siblings.

“What is it?” Luther asks seriously.

“He’s not there anymore,” Vanya says.

“What do you mean, ‘not there’?” Allison asks, not bothering to keep the incredulous tone out of her voice.

Vanya just shakes her head, squinting at her phone. She’s spent many, many years on the dark web, has had many pseudonyms, has kept her eye on a number of users. She knows she’s one of the best hackers who uses it, is basically untraceable.

So, for this message to have reached her, means that somebody with the same level of skill has tracked her. Knows who she is. Knows who Five is, what they are.

“Vanya, dear sister, please use your words!” Klaus sing-songs from the back seat. Vanya shakes her head, blinking rapidly.

“We need to go to here,” she says, reading off a new address.

“Where is that?” Allison prods.

Vanya shrugs. “I’m not sure. But it’s where Five will be. I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know?” Diego asks, suspicious. Vanya can’t blame him. She’s not sure how to explain to her siblings that the user _ghostyboi004_ gave her the address with no other information, and she trusts it enough to blindly follow it. She knows how it would sound – exactly like a trap.

But she doesn’t know how to explain that through all her years of surveillance on the dark web, the user _ghostyboi004_ has been there as well, either with that handle or under a pseudonym. That she trusts them, whoever they are, almost as much as she trusts herself.

So, instead of saying any of that, she answers, “I just do.” It’ll be enough. Vanya’s never led them astray before.

Sighing heavily, Diego adjusts his course. But he doesn’t argue.

___

The destination Vanya’s led them to is a church. Old, miles from anything relevant, looks to be falling apart; vines climbing up the dilapidated exterior.

“He’s in there?” Diego says flatly. Vanya nods.

“Only one way to find out,” Klaus says, sauntering forwards carelessly. Diego grabs his arm, halting him.

“Hang on,” Diego hisses. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Paranoia? Really, I thought that was Luther’s thing,” Vanya says. Luther’s eyes go wide, and Klaus laughs out loud, holding up his hand for a high-five.

“Guys. Seriously?” Allison says, rolling her eyes. “If it’s a trap, we give it right back to them,” she says, nonchalantly pulling a lethal looking handgun out from under her poncho.

Nobody says anything, staring at it. Allison stares right back. “What, you’re telling me none of you brought a gun?”

At their lack of response, she throws her hands into the air. “Nobody? God, I give up.”

“Hey, I brought my knives,” Diego says. Allison waves him away.

“Whatever. I’ll go in, see what’s up, and let you guys know,” Allison says.

“Hell no,” Luther argues. “We all go in.”

They all look at each other, assessing. “Fine,” Allison says, relenting. “Let’s go.”

The shadows are soft inside, the only light coming from the massive, ornate windows lining the walls. The ceiling is huge, domed, and covered in intricate, faded depictions of biblical characters. Allison finds her eyes drawn to them, at the simple, ageless beauty of it.

Luther inhales sharply, and Allison is immediately on guard, gun already in hand, before her eyes land on the figure at the other end of the church.

“He said you’d come,” the boy says. He looks, to put it nicely, awful. Gaunt and tired and pale and bruised, wearing the same preppy little schoolboy outfit that she’d seen in her vision, though now it was scrappy, torn in places, splattered with blood in others. But he still manages to look haughty, sprawled out on the steps before the altar, like he’s something biblical. Holy. A fallen angel, a condemnation of God.

“Who?” Allison asks, stepping forwards warily.

The boy waves his hand, looking at all of them and none of them. “Ben.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “ _Ben_?” Klaus repeats.

“Did I fucking stutter?” The boy snaps.

“Hey now,” Diego says warningly as he starts to survey the church, likely looking for an indication of Ben’s presence.

“Do you know who we are?” Allison asks, fighting past the swell of emotions at hearing Ben’s name. Ben, who she hasn’t seen or heard from in decades. Who she’d thought… assumed until now… that he was dead.

The boy surveys them, his eyes sharp, calculating, but… shattered. Like a shadow has passed over them. Allison feels her heart break for a moment, thinking what this boy must’ve gone through in the past few days. When they’d been dicking around, drinking and wallowing in their own guilt instead of going to find him the moment they’d had the vision.

Yes, there were reasons why they didn’t come immediately. But Alison can’t help but curse her decision to get the whole family together, rather than just come for the boy herself the moment she’d woken up with his feral grin in her mind.

“You’re like me,” the boy says finally.

“Let us help you,” Luther says, moving forwards only to stop in his tracks when Five jabs a finger at him and positively _snarls_.

“What a prick,” Klaus says, delighted, grin only widening as the boy’s eyes slide to him. He waves his fingers gently at the boy. “Hi there, little bro,” he croons, stepping closer, slowly, as if Five is an injured wild animal. Which, Allison can’t help but think, he kind of resembles. “What was it you said about a _Ben_?”

Five watches Klaus through narrowed eyes. “I _said_ , he told me you idiots would be here. Busted me out of the _lovely_ little lab I’d been held captive, apparently because he got tired of waiting for you guys to do it, and dropped me here.”

“Where did he go?” Vanya asks faintly. Allison glances at her sister, who’s face is pale, like she’s seen a ghost. Her phone is in her hand, knuckles white with how tightly she’s holding it.

“He left,” Five says. “Not that I exactly blame him; I would’ve done the same if I’d known I was waiting around for a bunch of halfwits.”

“What a _prick_ ,” Klaus repeats, almost in awe. Allison is inclined to agree.

“Well, we’re here now,” Vanya says, positively unfazed by their new brother's lack of charisma. She walks forwards easily and settles on the steps a few feet away from the boy. He hasn’t moved since they’ve arrived, and Allison wonders with a start if it’s because he _can’t_. “We’re sorry we couldn’t get to you earlier. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

Five is staring at her, face unnervingly blank, but his eyes are shining. Allison steps forwards as well, suddenly ashamed of herself for keeping such a distance between herself and the boy. “You’re one of us now,” she says, trying to adopt a motherly voice. It’s hard; she’s not used to being soft.

“Welcome to the family!” Klaus exclaims. “We won’t let you get kidnapped again. Well, we’ll try. No promises.”

Five stares at him like he’s an equation he just can’t figure out.

Diego appears from his rounds of the church, stopping next to Luther, who is staring at Five with an almost distraught expression. “No sign of anyone else,” he reports. “But I’m thinking we’ll want to get a move on sooner rather than later.”

“Why? Are we being followed?” Luther asks immediately. Diego gives him a strange look.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, no. But I don’t want to be anywhere near the creepy secret lab that’s been holding you captive,” Diego says, addressing Five.

“Experimenting,” Five says off-handedly.

“What?” Allison demands.

“Not just holding me captive. Experimenting on me.” Five’s voice is flat. “What, none of you ever got this special treatment?”

“I did, once,” Klaus interjects, but is silenced by a look from Allison.

Vanya inches closer to the boy. “That sounds awful,” she says. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that at all. We should’ve been here sooner.” Her voice is soft, but fierce, and Allison knows that her sister is thinking about her own introduction to immortality.

Five doesn’t say anything. Allison watches the way he’s holding himself, notes the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, the memory of pain ghosting his face.

“Can we take you home with us?” Vanya asks, giving Five a choice. Asking for his permission.

“Home?” His voice is tired, so tired, but still manages to be scornful. Allison doesn’t know how the kid manages it. “Where is _home_?”

“It’s your home now, too,” Allison says, standing. Klaus stands with her, the two heading to stand with Luther and Diego.

“What about the lab? About… the Handler, about Ben?” And now he sounds more like the young boy he is, the boy he will always sound like, will always be. Allison thinks it’s rather cruel, to gain immortality before adulthood.

“We’ll deal with all that later,” Diego says gruffly. “I’ve got some leads about the lab. As for Ben…”

“Honestly…” Allison says, picking up where Diego trailed off. “We didn’t even know Ben was alive. So, we’re definitely going to follow up on that as well.”

“I might have a way to contact him,” Vanya says, ignoring the shocked looks of her siblings.

“What? Since when?” Klaus demands.

“Just recently,” Vanya explains. “There’s some things I need to look into first.”

“Cryptic, as always,” Klaus muses.

Allison looks back at the boy, who is staring at them with an expression on his face that Allison only knows because she’s seen it in herself before. It’s longing.

Five catches her eye and immediately scowls. “I guess I have nowhere better to go,” he says haltingly.

Diego hoots. “That’s the spirit!”

Vanya, still seated next to Five, smiles widely. “We’ve all been in your position before,” she tells him. “I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

Five grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I already am’, but takes Vanya’s outstretched hand anyways, letting her lug him to his feet. He stumbles, and Luther steps forwards, steadying him. Five glares at the other man’s hand on him, but doesn’t say anything, letting the two help him hobble out of the church.

Klaus follows after them, then Diego, the two chatting amicably about something called ‘the Commission’. Allison stands still for a moment, watching them go. Her family. They’ve gained a new sibling, and have gotten closer to an old one, one they’d thought to be gone for a long, long time.

“I know you’re out there, Ben,” she says softly into the empty church. “I’m going to find you.”

Then:

“Sorry, that sounded really threatening,” she amends quickly. “What I meant was: we’ll be waiting for you. For whenever you’re ready to join us.”

Better. Smiling slightly, Allison hurries forwards, out to the car.

Out to her family.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! I've been working on this for a long time and am so excited to share it! I would love to hear any thoughts / opinions / reactions, or just chat about umbrella academy in general:)
> 
> if you're curious, I can share the head cannons for the characters in this universe, just let me know!
> 
> As promised, here are the head canons that I created when writing this story! they are ordered from oldest to newest immortals. again, major disclaimer for the fact that I got all my historical information off of Wikipedia. If you are into history and notice a glaring mistake in these, please let me know.
> 
> Ben  
> -The first immortal; can be dated back to the first civilization in Ancient China, though he was probably around before  
> then  
> \- Doesn’t even remember how old he is  
> \- “I was definitely around when the pyramids were built” (2,667 B.C.)  
> \- Stonehenge? Yeah I was there (2,400 B.C)  
> \- First the was nothing, then there was Ben
> 
> Allison  
> \- Based her background off Charlize Theron’s character in ‘The Old Guard’  
> \- lived in Ancient Greece for a bit, when it became clear she doesn’t age, become a legend, hailed like a goddess as she moved to a secluded area in the mountains  
> \- At one point was tried as a witch; they slit her throat, which caused her to lose her voice (temporarily)  
> \- now lives in a kickass ancient villa in Italy 
> 
> Luther  
> \- From Scandinavia, basically lived on the coast his whole life  
> \- Became a Viking  
> \- that's all I got :/
> 
> Klaus  
> \- Around during dawn of Christianity  
> \- Gathered a large following  
> \- "I think they called me Jesus?” (5 B.C.)  
> \- Was kidnapped by Hazel and Cha Cha (who indeed had a pretty chillingly accurate storyboard of his life); through  
> finding out he’s immortal, were able to kind of connect and trace back to other immortals
> 
> Diego  
> \- Around during the crusades (~1096 A.D.), was an independent mercenary, worked for anyone who would hire him which is why Luther killed him when they first met  
> \- Def fancies himself a hero
> 
> Vanya  
> \- violent introduction to immortality; was murdered by her boyfriend (Leonard, ew). When she came back to life, she tried to run but he caught her, basically locked her up with the intention of ‘figuring her out’. Luckily the squad rescued her a lot quicker than they rescued five
> 
> Five  
> \- Somehow they knew that the next immortal would be in that boys home; didn’t know who it was but in true Hazel and Cha Cha fashion they decided to kill everyone and see who would survive  
> \- Has never had a family before, never has had anyone to rely on except himself
> 
> Bonus:
> 
> Lila  
> \- Her family has run that little shop for countless generations, but she’s the last surviving member. They work in information gathering and selling with extremely select clientele. Diego has been a patron of theirs for decades.The Commission has gotten wind of them and has approached Lila. She’s been selling information to them as well, but feels kind of bad about it.
> 
> thank you all so much for your interest and support in this story! i know there are many questions that these head canons do not even attempt to answer, but perhaps I will get around to writing more about it in the future.


End file.
